


This Means War

by aneurysmface



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneurysmface/pseuds/aneurysmface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a harmless prank war... right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Means War

The first morning that Dean woke up and discovered all his clothes except for his least favourite shirt and his most torn up pair of jeans were missing, he chalked it up to Gabriel being bored. The next morning when Sam woke up and found everything but the one shirt that didn't fit and the pair of jeans he'd torn the back pocket off of were gone, Dean started getting suspicious.

The third morning when they woke up and all they had were matching outfits, Dean knew. Gabriel wasn't working alone. He didn't have the time to pop in every night. Once in a while, but with Michael locked up and Lucifer (and Dean would freely admit he'd never be able to thank Gabriel for pulling Sam out of the pit) and the general distaste of most of the holy host for Raphael, Gabriel had been pretty busy putting Heaven back in order. Cas had been helping, but he had more leeway than Gabriel to come and go.

“Dean? This has got to stop.” Sam said, looking at their matching clothes.

“No kidding. I say we get them back.”

“Them?”

“Gabe _and_ Cas.”

“You think Cas is in on this? It's not his style.”

“No, but it's Gabe's and he and Gabe have been getting to be pretty good friends lately.”

“I guess...but how are _we_ gonna prank a couple of _angels_?”

Dean just grinned, “C'mon, were gonna pay Bobby a visit.”

Sam shook his head, but followed Dean out the door.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Two days later after spending one day without underwear and another without shirts (Cas and Gabe had taken Bobby's, too, which motivated the man like nothing else had) _and_ after calling Crowley for help (he'd agreed readily. Apparently he and Gabriel had a history), they had a plan.

Between the four of them, they had managed to modify one of the angel banishing sigils to be able to target one angel in particular and send him to a pre-specified place instead of having him pop up at any old place.

They just had no idea if it would work. They shared a drink to celebrate at least a job marginally well done before Crowley popped out without warning and Sam, Dean, and Bobby resigned themselves to whatever fate luck threw their way.

Crowley had assured them the sigils wouldn't need to be completed with blood. He had rattled off something about how Cas and Gabe's grace would finish the spell and then there had been a tirade about how Gabriel had given him wings for two weeks and how “the bastard had it coming”. Dean had stopped listening halfway through.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When they woke in the morning, all of their clothes were still present and intact. And the sigils they had painted had been activated. Dean smirked and went downstairs. He stutter-stepped when he saw Cas and Gabe sitting nonchalantly at Bobby's kitchen table, each with a cup of coffee.

“Don't bother running to Sammy, Dean. He's on his way back from getting donuts and Bobby's outside working on some piece of junk car.”

Dean groaned and turned back around. He sat down at the table opposite Gabriel just has he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine.

“Your brother has impeccable timing.”

“Dean?! You up...yet?” Sam trailed off when he spotted Dean at the table.

“Mornin' Sam.” Dean said. He reached out and took the box of doughnuts from Sam's loose grip. He pulled out a jelly filled one and started eating. He passed the box to Gabriel first.

“So...who helped you out?” Gabriel asked, after he pulled out a glazed, jelly filled, and a frosted doughnut.

“Who helped us with what?” Sam asked.

“You know, Sam, you're not half as good at bluffing as your brother. And you're smart, but not even you could have modified those sigils without help.”

“So they worked?” Sam sounded surprised.

“Too well for them to be solely your handiwork. So. Who helped?”

There was a soft pop and Crowley appeared next to Gabriel. He, too, took a doughnut from the box.

“That would be me. Consider it payback for those wings you stuck me with.”

“That was over two hundred years ago and you're still holding a grudge?”

“Demon, remember?”

Gabriel just smirked in response.

“Dean, Gabriel and I wish to call a truce.” Cas spoke for the first time.

“Aw, Cas, didn't enjoy your night at Swinging Richard's?”

“So that's where they sent you! He wouldn't tell me.”

“Nor would you tell me where they sent you.”

“Gabe? Oh, we sent him to a curling tournament. How long do those last, anyway?” Dean couldn't resist the tease.

“Too long.” Gabriel answered.

“So I take it the five hour permanence worked.” Sam stated.

“You are a sneaky bastard, Crowley.” Gabriel sent a glare in the demon's direction.

“And _you_ are just enough of one to be worth liking.”

“So. About that truce.” Sam said, finally getting the doughnut box back.

“We agree to stop stealing your clothes if you agree not to banish us again. Although, I must admit, taking your shirts was well worth five hours of curling.”

“What's the catch?” Dean looked at Cas, “Your not just going to stop because of one little banishment.”

“With the current state of Heaven, we cannot afford to be unreachable without notice.”

“Uh-huh. And if you make me watch curling again, though worth it, I can't promise I won't throw you in another Japanese game show. _Without_ the ability to speak Japanese.”

Both Sam and Dean cringed at that memory.

“Fine. A truce.” Sam said.

“Good. Now, who's up for pie?”

Dean's ears perked up at that.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next day when Dean woke up and the keys to the Impala were missing, he made an official declaration of war. 

**Author's Note:**

> Swinging Richard's is a real gay strip club in Atlanta, Georgia just in case you were wondering.


End file.
